


Written in Blood

by rynling



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Danger and Intrigue, Gen, Ocarina of Time Universe, This Does Not End Well, Twilight Princess Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7945621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rynling/pseuds/rynling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of three short stories about the loneliness of high places, the futility of resisting one's destiny, and the dangerous magnetism between wisdom and power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written in Blood

▲     How the Legend Begins     ▲

 _Time flows like a river, yet the water is sluggish, and the banks are lined with clinging mud_ , Ganondorf thinks to himself, careful to keep the lines of his face relaxed and the cast of his eyes discrete. The hours of his visit to Hyrule Castle do not proceed in an orderly progression but meander, bringing gaseous flashes of rotten memories to the surface of his mind. He has crossed over this threshold of cold stone before, and if the gods are willing he will step through these great wooden gates again, yet the peculiars never become easier, nor should they.

Zelda is standing with her father behind her, and although she does not look at him he knows she is waiting. She will not hate him, but the cycle is yet young, as is she, and there are not yet twitches at the small corners of her eyes and mouth. How glorious it must be to experience a clean rebirth, casting off one's history like a soiled garment after a long day, a day that has lasted years and years, back and back and back.

Ganondorf takes Zelda's hand, smooth and lithe, with fingers that have lightly caressed arrows as sharp as her clever eyes. He leads her in a dance, the steps familiar to them both, bow and turn and dip. It is a formality, and neither speaks as their reflections spin under them on the polished marble floor. They are not watched, but not a single eye is turned away. Although no one but him could possibly remember, they all know that this is how the legend begins – a demon king, a wise princess, his skin against hers, and the words they never allow to touch their lips.

 

▲     Knowledge and Wisdom     ▲

Ganondorf was not a patient man, and he found the stillness of the castle library oppressive. The only sounds were the sputtering of the candle flame within its glass enclosure and the crepitations of the ancient pages between his fingers. The dust lay thick on lonely shelves that no one had touched in years, and in the canyons between them he sat like a sentinel, his eyes racing across lines of faded ink. He was not a patient man, but he was driven, and he would find the answers he sought. He would uncover the keys to Hyrule's golden power.

From a book with traces of mildew on its cover he learned that the god of the Zoras was no mere idol but a living creature dwelling deep within a lake of pure icemelt hidden high in a mountain caldera. The paper of the book had been warped by humidity, and the pages rose and fell like waves as he traced the route that would lead him to the fish god who would later refuse to speak to him. In his wrathful fury Ganondorf had cursed the deity, magic spilling from hands that had once caressed the sandy scrolls that recorded the arts of his ancestors.

To stifle the twinge of regret that rose in his gut once his temper had subsided, Ganondorf returned to the castle and its library. He searched for a second chance, and in a weighty tome with a small ruby embedded in its cover he found it. The book's gritty pages, singed at their edges, hinted at an old system of mines held sacred by the Gorons. He rode to their mountain, promising himself that he would not act in anger, but when the tribal leader refused to meet with him he could not help himself, channeling his will into the very earth, which shook with the magnitude of his rage.

Once again in the castle library, Ganondorf excavated the highest and most neglected shelves, finally pulling down a slim book with a cover carved from a wood whose strange whorls he did not recognize. The map scrawled across its green-smelling pages was drawn in a childish hand, but while the brushstrokes were uncertain their purpose was clear; these directions would lead him through the Lost Woods, a dark forest where misdirection promised certain demise. Ganondorf had long walked beside death, and when he rode south it was as if the path opened itself before him until his progress was blocked by a tree so old and rotten that it was a wonder it still stood. He spoke to the tree, but it refused to listen, telling him that he was a curse on this land. _So be it_ , Ganondorf thought before adding deed to word, manifesting through his magic the sour jealousy that a man of the desert harbors for the evergreen humidity of the forest.

As Ganondorf once again entered the library, it was with a staid and somber heart; for, despite all he had learned, he could not understand what the books weren't telling him, why he was no closer to his desire now than when he started. He was barely tolerated within the castle walls, and he would have attracted unwanted attention in the day, an enormous man poring over yellowing pages as if he had any right to the words they contained. At night he was free to move as he wished, but he had begun to notice a presence at the corners of his vision, a small fair-haired child, clumsy in her steps but wily in her mien. She had warned her father to beware of the man with golden eyes, but dotard that he was he did not understand what she meant. "The Gerudo can't read," the king laughed. "What threat could he possibly be?"

Ganondorf accumulated a vast store of knowledge during his research and travels, and gradually he began to suspect that what he so dearly prized was in the hands of the princess who had been next to him all along, moving through the shadows behind him, naive enough to believe she was not seen. Of all the gods and monsters he had faced, it was this small slip of a girl who frightened him the most. He was certain that she held the final key, but he did not know why she carried it or when she might decide to use it against him, as she surely would. In her bright, clear eyes he recognized his own compulsion to learn the truth, and he knew he could not deny her.

 

▲     Written in Blood     ▲

When Ganondorf emerged into the sultry summer night, the sky was an uncanny shade of gold. Hyrule Castle rose from the black earth like a hand grasping for the heavens. The kingdom had gone dark, but there was still one faint light shining from the tallest tower.

The road leading to Castle Town was in a state of severe disrepair. Thorny weeds poked through the cracks in the crooked paving stones. The grasses along the sides of the road had grown tall and wild. In the distance, jagged masonry sketched the outlines of what had once been mighty walls and bridges.

Ganondorf enjoyed the velvet touch of the warm air on his skin, but his mind was not at peace. He walked through the field until he came upon the remains of the amphitheater that used to mark the southern boundary of the city. Even the monumental stone steps had crumbled. How much time had passed? This was not the Hyrule he remembered.

Castle Town, now a mere echo of its former glory, was deserted. The twisted beasts of the Twilight Realm shambled across the uneven cobblestones of the winding streets, searching for something they would never find, each trapped in its own stunted mind. Once they had been men and women, fair of form and placid of face, but their bodies had fallen under the spell of the usurper king. Once he would have been disgusted by the abuse of power and blamed himself, but he found that such considerations meant little to him now.

The gate of Hyrule Castle opened before him as he slipped through the barrier sealing it away from the rest of the world. Its halls and passageways had not changed, and he walked them as he had in the distant past, a palimpsest of memory accompanying his every step.

He found the princess at the top of a lonely spire. Her window faced west, the desert somewhere beyond the horizon. She herself could not see it, laid out as she was on a narrow bed, the pellucid not-light barely reaching her pillow. When he entered her chamber, a ghost of a smile materialized on her face. It was clear to him that she was hanging on to life with the full force of her will, but she was fading fast.

She was a different Zelda, she had to be, but still he knelt at her bedside and bowed to her as he had once lowered his head to the woman he loved. When she strained to brush her fingers against his shoulder, their weight as light as feather down, his breath caught in his throat.

"Finally, you came," she whispered.

"Your Highness," he muttered. It was all he could manage.

"I have read about you, Demon King," she continued, her voice as faint as a dying breeze. "I have read about the war we waged against you. I have read about your deeds, and how you suffered, and why you fell."

"I never fell," he responded through clenched teeth.

The princess shook her head slowly, her hair rustling like falling leaves.

"When the Gerudo left us, we lost everything," she told him. "In this kingdom caught between impassable mountains and forested canyons, the desert was our only way to reach the outside world, and you, Gerudo lord, held the keys to its gates. When you were imprisoned, everything collapsed, and we are chained now just as you were then."

"Give me the Triforce, and I will make Hyrule whole again. I will make you well." It was all he wanted; it was all he had ever wanted.

"The Triforce is no longer mine to give," she murmured. She must have passed it to the hero, or to the queer imp that lingered in his shadow.

"If I may be frank with you, Demon King," she said, meeting his eyes. She lifted her hand, and he took it. She sighed softly. "In my last hour, it was you who sought me out, you and no other. Hyrule has become too great a burden for me to bear. The throne is too high, and too cold. It does not matter if I am the one sitting there."

She paused to take a small and shallow breath. When she spoke again, he had to strain to hear her words. "It may have been better if you had won, all those many years ago."

The princess closed her eyes. He waited for her to take another breath, but it never came.

"No," he growled, "it will not end like this." How utterly devoid of meaning it was that he should still live, trapped in this broken world after sacrificing so much to return to it. This child should not have to bear the burden of the sins of her ancestors. He placed his hand on her chest, and the cursed mark seared into his flesh began to glow.

Ganondorf concentrated his will and attempted to transfer the spark of his life into her still and silent body, but his heart had grown strange during his long captivity, and the flow of vitality from his soul into hers was turgid and impure. The color leeched from her skin, and black trails of corruption jetted along the lines of her veins. When she at last opened her eyes, they were empty.

A terrible smile spread across his face. If this was truly the will of the gods, then he would fight. By the sacred names of his mothers, by the gentle wind of the land he once coveted, and by the lost eyes of this sad princess in her abandoned castle, he would fight. The last flame of his hope had been extinguished, but still his fury burned strong.

"Come with me," he said, his voice flat and cold. The young woman jerked from her bed in a mockery of her former grace. He turned away. "If the hero is compelled by destiny to save you, then we will wait for him..."

Ganondorf made a rude gesture, and Zelda lurched forward.

"We will wait on the throne of this forsaken kingdom, together."


End file.
